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judy smith Aug 2015
They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start.

The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle:

Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp.

"I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post.

In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours.

Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product.

"Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!"

On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page.

"I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'"

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth

www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses
I like to say I live comfortably
in my own filth, but that's just lies.
My house is disgusting, at least in my eyes.

The ***** clothes mingle
with the clean, all stacked
on the floor, anxiously waiting
to be put away.

I avoid the dishes, like nobody's business,
trading the chore for ***.
Is that considered prostitution?
a barter of sorts,
my husband's labors for my services?

Honestly, as long as the bed
is made, I can live
in this pig-sty at least
for another day.
Eileen Prunster Jul 2014
he didn't notice
she was dead
until
the next day
When she falls into sleep
Beside me every night,
I'm often haunted by
All the promises I made decades ago.
So easy to make when
Dark feelings were out of sight.
Since then I’ve broken
The locks on almost every door.

In newlywed bliss she was
Sleeping next to me one night.
Still in that distant land
She suddenly sat-up
On the edge of the bed
With her back facing me,  
Looking into the dark closet
Next to her side of the bed.
She called out my name several times.  

Already awake, I answered,
"What’s wrong?"

With back still turned,  
She answered,
"I’m not talking to you,
I’m talking to the other Danny."

A darkened closet is where
My darker-half was first revealed.
My love and I were newlyweds, but
In one year was the uniting of the pair.

Through all these years,
She has sensed with empathy
My loss of peace and spirit
And at least tries to fill-up
The deep, dark empty spaces
That are in the many chambers
Of my damaged heart and soul.

Only this depth of Love can,
In its ineffable heat, melt
Away all traces of impurity,
If you let it.
I have learned to let it.


--Daniel Irwin Tucker
lyrical rhymes, beats in epic time
dance around ten times the dime
that's beats per minute, 100 plus
wonderful noises reminiscent of us
dark poets sing of ravens and owls
while I sing of roars and howls
serenades in escalades, roll down the powershades
Dubstep beat-drops, guitar string heart-throbs
all of them blast through my Skullcandy's
dance the dance of wine and brandy
drunken and wild and not so mild
spark animal instincts, to hunt and mate
mangled sheets and broken beds
lie below the newlyweds
as the saxophone and trombone
softly sweep around their home
Deadmau5, Skrillex and Nero
party hard to Guitar Hero
while I slave over my laptop
listening to the beat drop.
Ashly Kocher Oct 2018
Hi.
My name is Ashly (yes without an E in my name). I am 33, my husband is 47 ( yes 14 years apart). I couldn’t be happier with Brent in my life. On Wednesday, October 17 we will be together for 10 years, even though we have been best friends for close to 20 years.
April 18, 2010 we were married surrounded by our closest friends and family. It was the best day of my life, well both of our lives.
As any normal newlyweds, we went on a honeymoon, to Disney because that’s our “happy place”. Assuming we would start a family in the coming months or years.
Fast forward to today.... still waiting, and waiting....
After hearing for a couple years..
Are you trying?
Are you pregnant?
When will you have children?
The clock is ticking
Time is running out
So forth and so on...
Now many don’t ask who know
Many just wonder if we even ever wanted children or to start a family.
Seeing all my high school friends and others throughout the world posting on social media “We’re expecting”
“We’re going by two feet”
I kindly reply with a smile on my face, but emptiness in my heart. Forcing a smile and a nice gesture.
It’s not because I’m not happy for others, but discouraged with myself.
Why me?
Why us?
Are we not good enough?
What’s wrong with me?
What’s wrong with my husband?
And the list goes on and on...
I’ve tried to tell myself “everything happens for a reason” and I try to stick by that quote, but unfortunately for this situation, it just plain *****.
It hurts, it’s mortifying, it leaves unopened and hurtful scars that you can explain or be seen to anyone.
As time goes on, it gets harder to think about because let’s face it, we’re not getting any younger. It’s a constant struggle to keep a smile on my face and happiness in my heart especially with this constant void.
But....
It’s ok.
I’m ok.
We’re ok.
If it would happen at some point, I’ll be happy and proud, but if it doesn’t, it wasn’t meant to be and that’s ok.
I am who I am suppose to be, who I’m suppose to be with and we are happy. Even if that means we will never be direct parents to our own child.
We both can be role models, aunts and uncles, friends and families to others.
Although the sand through the hourglass is running thin, our lives together is where it all begins.
Happiness and struggles
Love and pain
We are one together and that’s the most precious thing I can say.
I love you Brent, with all my heart, even if we’ll never be parents, I wouldn’t want to go through this with anyone else.
I know myself and many others go through the same situation and it’s very hard to talk about. I am here to she’s my story and hopefully help someone else who is going through the same thing, will have the courage to speak out. Your not alone.
preservationman Jul 2015
A birthday surprise that will arise
The Eiffel Tower bliss
It will require a guest list
A marriage proposal in the works
One family member is giving a dream come through
But the question being will there be a Yes or No in the slew?
The romance has been going for a while
The man is pulling all the stops in being his style
An engagement ring full of love
News will be spreading like a secrete dove
All the blessings one could think of
France being known for romance
A couple’s moment at every chance
The Eiffel Tower bows
Heaven’s praise being from thou
A Son’s Mother who will arrive in Paris soon
The Mother wants to see up close and personal of this romance engagement tune
Paris with a night smiling moon
Good luck to the Newlyweds to be
The couple has God’s eyes coming from thee
But for family in the USA, we will have to wait and see.
YayyaKhairudin Aug 2016
Dear lovely stranger
I hope you will not stay in anger
For everytime i tease you without fear
And let you down this year.

How time flies
And now is like part of me dies
For knowing the truth
That it is the end of your youth.

Words could not explain
Of the pain that i gain
Let my grief and tears rain
May the rainbow shows up again.

Please be happy
Only happiness will set you free
Perhaps it is time to say goodbye
And now go-- spread your wings and fly.
-yayyakhairudin
Ashtyn Burk May 2014
Tungsten with an atomic number of 74,
Like the years a couple will spend together.
Newlyweds with rings made from Tungsten.
Their love shown by the rings on their fingers.
Love held together by a ring with the highest melting point.
One's love can come in many shapes and colors,
Like Tungsten going from dark grey to almost white.
A couples love can shine as bright as Tungsten in the sun.
Even with dark times their love will power through,
Their love as strong as Tungsten.
We had to write a poem about an element in my science class. I'm pretty proud of mine! (:
Ashmita Jan 2013
This is not a poem, but its close to my heart, so I thought I'd put this up.

"We're walking these streets like they're paved with gold
Make any old excuses not to go
Neither one of us want to take that taxi home."

She came out of the movie hall with a new soul. A new life, a new beginning. As he held her hands, for the first time, in a long time, she felt safe. Even if what she had, posed the greatest threat to her. Disappointment. All over again. But in that one moment she knew what she wanted.    
She'd never leave that hand. No matter what it took, she'd be there, holding on. She swore she'd never let this go. And with that conclusion, she was born again. With hot tears, she was rejuvenated.
This time, her tears were the reason she smiled.
This time, she got back the heart she had once given away.
This time, she was loved.
Her knees were week, her heart palpitated, butterflies in her stomach. Her mind, not working.
Time stood still. And it felt perfect.
"I'll be back in a moment", he kissed her hand so delicately as if she was so fragile. As if she'd break in an instant. She would have. She was a crystal waiting to be damaged. But there was something in his eyes which told her, he'd be back.
Reluctantly, but gradually she let him go. He took one look and turned and ran away. Her gaze followed him. He felt it. He looked back, winked and carried on.
He came back. Not with a horse carriage, but with a old taxi. it really didn't matter as long as he was in it.
"Come on in"
His presence invited her in. He took her by the shoulders. And she was where she belonged. She closed her eyes for just a moment to take it all in. He took her hands and held on tight. And as the road went on, she found herself wishing it would not lead home. Wishing it could just take them away. She didn't care were that away was. As long as it was away.
She smiled. Holding nothing back, she laughed.
She was no longer the girl with a broken smile.
The taxi driver kept looking back. They were as bad as newlyweds. Shy, yet nothing could possibly keep them apart. And from the corner of her eyes she caught the old taxi driver deliver a smile of acceptance.
With both hesitance and surety, she kept taking risks, going further and further closer to home, together, in each other's arms. Because for the first time in her life, she HAD something to loose. Because the risk was worth it. every moment of it.      
She understood what she had in her hand. It was something familiar. Something warm and cozy. It was love.
A love which wasn't understandable. A love unknown. A strange and sudden development.
Her wall had been broken once again. This time, easier than before.
And it only took a taxi ride home for it to be realized.
judy smith Jul 2015
Bride and groom Erika and Joshua Garza say they thought their Durham wedding was set and all planned. The owner of the Fayetteville-based "Bragg About It Catering" company had driven up a month earlier so they could sample her wedding wares.

"She had the food ready. It was good," said Joshua Garza. "We tasted it and everything seemed great, and then she wanted to meet at the venue to see the kitchen and kinda get an idea of where she wanted to set up like that. So then we met with her at the venue and everything still seemed great."

They moved forward with the company, signed a contract, and say they prepaid caterer Jennifer Debrue $1,100.

"We talked to her all the time. We kept in contact. Everything was fine," Erika said.

That was until the day of the couple's wedding. The two say they received some surprising news.

"Nobody told us anything until we were in the limo and they were like 'Yeah, your caterer's not here,'" Joshua Garza recalled.

The Garzas now had more than 100 famished family and friends and no caterer. Fortunately for them, they did have some resourceful relatives who were able to run out and grab food for the wedding and save the day, but that did not change how the couple felt about the no-show caterer.

"I mean you don't do that to somebody on a day like that," said Joshua Garza. "You just, you ruin somebody's day."

Joshua and Erika tried to contact "Bragg About It Catering" but never received a call back or a refund.

"I don't want her to do this to anybody else, said Erika Garza.

But unfortunately, Sergeant First Class Anthony Baxley says it also happened to him at his retirement party.

"We didn't want to have to be running around," Baxley said, "We didn't want to be cooking. We didn't want to do any of that. We did a lot of research. We actually contacted probably over 10 different caterers before we settled on this one."

Falling in love with everything on the menu that Debrue offered, Baxley, too, chose "Bragg About It Catering". He says he prepaid the full cost of $1,500 and, like the Garzas, was left with an event with no caterer.

"After the ceremony was over I was immediately told there was a couple of problems with the caterer ... she never showed up, Baxley said.

Stressed to the max after receiving the news, it was Baxley's family and friends who also stepped in and saved his special day.

"A lot of the people found out before they went over to where we were doing the actual reception and they went to the store and purchased a whole bunch of food for us, he said.

With two costly no-shows, I tried to track down caterer Jennifer Debrue, but she did not respond to our phone calls or emails. We decided to go to the address listed on her contract information and spoke with her husband who seems surprised.

"They paid $1,100 and their wedding day came and went and she never showed up," I told him.

"I'm shocked. I don't know," he responded.

He told me Jennifer DeBrue would call us back, but she never did. Meanwhile, the newlyweds and Baxley are trying to spread the word that "Bragg About It Catering" is not something to brag about.

Our advice to viewers would be to pay by credit card so you can dispute it when something like this happens. Both Baxley and the Garza's said they did that.

read more: www.marieaustralia.com

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
Mandi Wolfe Nov 2019
There once was a tiny bundle of cells that grew in my womb
without the assistance of fertility medications or ovulation testing
a surprise spontaneous occurrence of the first sparks of Life
a product of the kind of ******* that happens on a honeymoon
between newlyweds full of bliss, lust, and hope

My womb once thought uninhabitable to such an occurrence
boarded a plane home five days later
cradling this new truth-
The Honeymoon Baby

Weeks would pass before my womb would begin to betray its secret
3 days late- nothing
5 days late- nothing
8 days late- the little blue plus sign and a whisper from deep in me-
“You aren’t broken?”

For several hours my womb and I jealously guarded this knowledge
My new husband not known for his enthusiasm wouldn’t share in my joy
So I sat alone feeding my hungry heart on now debunked beliefs
“You AREN’T broken!”

Having gorged myself to the point of bursting on a meal years in the making
I looked with wet eyes to my then partner of more than half a decade
“we made a honeymoon baby; I’m not broken.”
No, he wouldn’t share my joy.

His eyes turned to windows in the days that would follow
They screamed their disgust into the wide open parts of me
as pointedly and with as much passion as his mouth could ever muster
It was then that I began to silently pray the baby away

My silence only increased his vitriol until with a blast he climaxed in his rage
and I felt the cold of the recently adorned wedding band against my neck
as the hands which had held mine so softly so often pinned me to the door
Finally my silent prayers gave way to a singular scream
“I ******* hate you and I hate your child inside of me!”

My womb cried to hear the prayer spoken
She cried so long and so loud that she began to bleed
She heaved and sobbed her rage into rivers of blood that wouldn’t stop for weeks
and earthquakes of cramps that would rock me to my core
The unstoppable current of tears and blood carried the translucent sac
that housed the had been Honeymoon Baby into the ***** porcelain bowl
The baby I prayed away that would never speak whispered up
“You are broken.”

The honeymoon was over.
I hadn’t hated him before that.
Six years later to the day we signed divorce papers.
WARNER BAXTER Mar 2014
.
*the honeysuckle nectar is gathered with a buzz
cactus flowers perform their sweet encore, just because

sandals tip toe in short skirts, so busy are the eyes
spilling ink are poets, minding minds of the wise

love is in the air breezing through limbs and leaves
newlyweds sniffing with mouths under dancing trees

spring has sprung and love is singing everywhere
while country clocks crawl and standing still is Time Square
ljl sunshine Oct 2017
Love
grew in me
our microbiomes merging
our souls singing
our days dipping
into honey joy
savory sweet
made for two
me and you
At Last!
Big Delta airliner racing overhead , I pray all her
occupants have safe travel this gorgeous Spring day
A passenger from Atlanta scoring a big business deal ,
an elder , excited Grandma on the way to see kids in
Bakersfield
Young soldiers headed home for much needed leave ,
a blues picker leaving Nashville bound for New Orleans
Students headed back to Texas Tech , Notre Dame and
Villanova
Newlyweds on their honeymoon to San Diego , an Engineer with a meeting in Guadalajara , a family reunion in Texarkana* ...
Copyright April 27 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Robert Guerrero Nov 2012
I walked this road for so long
It's been 16 years
Since I have rested
Feels like I've been tested
For all these years
This highway I walk
Has many shadows
Too many twist and turns
Every car that passes by
Just zooms right on by
As vultures stalk above
I grow weary
Would it be easier to end my life
Or just see if this road
Is a dead end highway
Every step is impossible
Every second is unbearable
I walk carrying the tools
To finish what this highway started
I walk and walk
Passed graves
Homeless people begging for money
Passed lovers kissing
Passed newlyweds
Passed mattress stores
And I know I walk this highway alone
No one to hold my hand
No one to stop my feet
No one
Not a soul
Not a heart
Nothing to save me
Before I create the end
To this god forsaken highway
I will force myself
To meet the end
"Casa Gonzales, leave a message."

                     In this lilting, merry voice,          

                                        you can hear her kindness,

                                         even that famous dry wit.
                                                          
 ­                              A dusty Sunday afternoon drew me here,

                             and I knocked shyly on the handmade door.
                                                          
                             Stirred from easy conversation with friends

                                   by the energetic, furry little dogs,

                              a tall, courtly gentleman came to greet me.

                                      In him I saw a graceful manner,

                          the wisdom of a life well-lived, and kindness too.
                                                          
 ­                            Together we walked to the opened door of

                                    the little casita beside their home.

                                     They had been newlyweds here,

                                    began their family in this bedroom

                                              that could be mine.
                                                          
                                  Looking down at me, more than once,

                                     he said: "You would be safe here."

                                    Words that soaked into my bones,

                                                  into my heart.
                                                          ­
                                           Time has gone by and I

                                         have made my home here

                                         on this simple, holy ground,

                                           beneath the shining stars,

                                          safe, and deep in joy, beside

                                             Casa Gonzales.
Poem from an earlier time... with New Mexico on my mind... and in my heart...
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Kelly O'Connor Jan 2014
On a yellow-lighted main street we pause on a corner
For a moment, our companions lagging behind.
You set down the twelve-pack of beer by a lamp post.
I zip up my jacket. We both grumble, impatient.
I'm cold, you want to get drunker, we both
Shiver. You stand against a stone wall, we face
Each other across the sidewalk. Your hair
Flies into your eyes as you toss your head --
"Come the **** on!" -- at those half a block back.

A couple passes by us, the man in a dark tuxedo,
The woman in a white wedding gown and heels,
Hair in disarray. They stop their post-nuptial trudging, and she
Leans against the building for support to remove
Her shoes. His hand rests protectively on
Her back; none of us make eye contact. And then
Her shoes are off, bare feet padding lightly down
The November-chilled San Francisco sidewalk.

"Hurry up, you *******," I heckle backwards at our three
stragglers. "Newlyweds are moving faster than you."
We glance at each other again, you
Light a cigarette and shake your head. It hits
Me with a chuckle. "Man, those people
Just got married and here they are, walking
Down a street in the city at 2 in the morning."

"Right?" you reply, laughing a little. Our eyes meet
As if sharing a joke. And then we look away.
You cross the sidewalk in two long strides,
And bend to pick up your beer, handing me
Your cigarette. Within a block our quick pace
Has left the others behind again.
Appearance of the New Courier
(with namesake "Georgia Ives")
flew into the courtroom
faster than Bold face WingDings!

After the judge opened
the waxed sealed envelope stamped
with the official legal imprimatur
sound of silence filled the courtroom.

After perusing highlighted principle details,
a noticeable con jug gay shun
didst Impact countenance of attired judge.

Recess announced at authority decree
(spelled out with quotation marks high
lighting dotted i's and crossed t's)
figuratively a nouns sing moratorium
for those accused of run on sentences,
split infinitives, then versus than...
incorrect usage of ellipses, et cetera.

The justice of supreme court
critically espied quotation marks
(underscoring reductio ad absurdum
Times New Roman regulation)
against stiff penalty asper those
who commit rhetorical perturbations!    

This lenient fiat occurred immediate
by innocent omission of a colon,
which subsequently, naturally,
and immediately affected
every future jury presiding over
a defendant applying incorrect punctuation!

A favorite comma cull anecdote
often repeated by my late english
grammar (a palliative to me psyche
despite the multi-generational
difference in age) happened
when she celebrated twenty  
and counting punctual marks, whence time
in utero came to an end period.

Many question marks still abound
as per the specific circumstances
of this generally uneventful birth,
only that she seemed to dash
from the womb (of her mother –

mine great grandmother christened
Latina Greco) with a pointed
exclamation declaration
of independence while ****** constitution
adorned with supposedly shimmering
invisible golden braces
and a full set of teeth.

Somewhat averse to authoritarianism
and mores of assuming the sir name
of the groom, she maintained nom
de plume affixed on her birth certificate.

If born that way today, and ready
to pledge marital vow, would
probably follow the common custom
and hyphenate name of beau similar
to newlyweds of this day and at this very moment.

Back in those days though,
town’s folk exclaimed with
pointed superstition that a baby born
after being bracketed nine months

within the womb (which seemed
like an eternal sentence), and equipped
with the means to chew would
most likely experience little colon difficulty.

As a dignified divine dowager,
she willingly shared her cradle
to graveside tidbits (populated
with many wisecracks and
marked quotations from a life
that spanned more than a century21.

Smart as a whip or pin
(the latter term somewhat out of vogue),
this independent woman
(who married into nobility

from humble roots) frequently evinced
el shaped lips when the un
suspecting recipient ensnared
of her harmless ingenious pranks.

Aside from what many considered
childlike antics (which characteristic
salient trait appealed to this grandson),
she excelled at verbal adroitness

and could spin a jesting lightly
mocking pun, which seemed
to quiver with an invisible
apostrophe shaped blackened barb.

Though privileged per parochial parents,
her inherited empire and peers, the people
of the proletariat class felt
figuratively parenthetically
included as persons of concern
to this genteel dame.

She exemplified and wore that moniker
noblesse oblige with utmost
august excellence, and whenever
the need or wont arose to address
the madding crowd (this
crowned empress) resorted
to non-verbal communication ala semaphore.

Her lily-white hands (most often
remained sheathed in Palmolive
clad ding silken gloves - exuded
a faint patrician touch) partitioned

the air with arabesques accentuated
with sign language for those
among the teeming masses
unable to hear or in fact deaf.

Regular adherence to being grammatically
(yet not necessarily politically) correct
witnessed the air being sliced with even
less familiar punctuation symbols
such as the emdash, en-dash.

Even doctorates of English and
strict task masters (whose
frowning scowls strongly resembled
semicolons when even minor indiscretions,
infractions, transgressions, et cetera
with english language observed)

never found fault with this
former bohemian, whose rhapsodic,
melodic, linguistic voice ameliorated
dark memories from dereliction dis
played by former queen.

She also received the treatment of
a champion lyricist, whereby every lyre
(got set on fire) from utterance akin
to a choir of hells angels, yet this

chanteuse voice rang thru the
azure vault causing the small hairs
of the spine to experience a pleasant
electric shock therapy.
terra b Dec 2014
Sometimes I think back to when the faint blue vein that runs around my eye like a mask was something I was proud of,
and not a quaint reminder of the walls I’ve built around myself.
I’ve resided in this house all my life,
surrounded by fogging windows and doors that only seem to deepen with each passing day.
It looks like a normal house,
with a flourishing garden and an ivory front door adjacent to modern illuminated panes.
There’s even a charming pond out back,
complete with a well- loved dock made of sturdy oak.
The elegant, circular driveway showcases the aesthetically pleasing symmetrics of the home’s exterior,
and guides inside a plethora of well- dressed civilians that I should probably remember meeting at some point,
for they all seem to know my name.
They tell my that I’ve sure grown up since they’ve last seen me,
and adore what I’ve done with my hair.
But I don’t understand how I could remember each and every face in this endless sea,
for I’ve never been able to escape this house.
The doorknob burns my palm each time I try.
However, I do recognize my aunt as she makes her way towards me,
taking cautious steps in her floor length, ivory gown to hand me a bouquet.
She gently embraces me and whispers a thoughtful, “I’m glad you could make it,”
and I smile into her shoulder, even though I’ve been here all this time.
A dignified man makes a cordial announcement,
followed by a memorable ceremony in a spacious place barely recognizable as a living room.
I cry for no reason,
but pretend it’s because of the newlyweds joining hands before me.
Soft music begins to play,
and drifts effortlessly through my ears and surrounds me,
slowing down time.
I make my way to a table decorated with rustic burlap and candles,
and seat myself next to my cousin.
I feel sick.
Then before I even know it,
I’m mixing champagne in with my 7-up in order to conceal the bitter taste,
in a poor attempt to forget that I’m even drinking at all.
The Bride’s father makes a toast,
but my drink is already gone.
Yet I’ll clink glasses with my cousin anyway
with my feet shaking under the table.
My aunt looks so beautiful in her wedding dress.
I imagine opening the back door without any pain,
and laying face down on the dock outside with my arm hanging limply over the edge;
my fingertips grazing the cool water’s ebony surface.
With the faint glimmer of lights from the house below my hand,
I’ll be forced to catch flickers of my messy curls and pale face
Watching the night swell like a bruise,
reminding me of you
and desperately pleading for something to pull me under.

t.b.
a poem for creative writing, the prompt being a house
T Thomas Feb 2015
Maybe those secret nights of us tangled together in bed
and feeling like cozy newlyweds
will soon fade to you
But in the book of my mind
where you are inscribed
those memories will last
my entire lifetime
OnwardFlame Aug 2018
Ah! What could that be!!
The ever so romantic sound
Of lillies in white
A soft pale pink
Long gowns
You know, the finer things!

An orchestra of ponies
They neigh out confetti
As post after social media post
Portrays ever lasting happiness
An anniversary, wedding bliss!

I drink my coffee
My face wind chapped and tired
I wonder if that will ever be me.

Ah! The hum of bumblebees
Drones soar high above the couples head
The whistle of newlyweds!!
Preparing to pack up my house
My father doesn’t text me back
I don’t know who is honest in this family anymore

But never fear!
We’ve got a preacher with no head!
He’s holding a bible full of roses and lead.

I don’t want to be a cynic
I do still believe.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2017
I am autumn and you are spring
If any of this folderol even means a thing.
I’m a Virgo and you are an Aries sprite.
And somehow the combination fits just right.
If I chose tarot cards and you I Ching
That did not make the wedding bells ring.
Whatever the fates had in store for us two
Is exactly what we are dedicated to do.

You threw a coin into the Trevi fountain
We saw the future on a nearby mountain.
We knew we were matched together for life
Happy newlyweds, two husbands, no wife.
After six months asking important questions
We were sure this was the right proposition.
Some people warned us to take a full year
But we read the signs and they were very clear.

We saw or talked to each other every day
Diving into the words we heard the other say.
It was essential that we learned everything;
Who the other really was and would bring
To a lifetime relationship for two individuals
Determined to keep the relationship in the middle.
There seemed to be nothing there to reject;
We were both what we needed, imperfectly perfect.

We were equally determined to stay ourselves
And put the fairy tales on a childhood shelf
And not expect the other one to ever change.
Some people implied to us that idea was strange.
My friends saw traits in him they urged me to stop.
The same was true of him, but we were not cops.
Instead I cherished the person I saw as great.
He did the same so we did not need to wait.

Now, today, it’s twenty eight years of love
As if we had the blessings from above.
It’s like planets aligned and are blessing us
In some kind of personal Age of Aquarius.
We've had to climb over some gnarly spots
But we're more than happy with what we got.
We got a partnership, love that lasted a lifetime.
So, we wanted to share it with you in this rhyme.
I made a couple of corrections after this got posted.
Evan Stephens Apr 22
A chance meeting at a bar,
   chatting under pouring pine
& knotted wooden star:
   To new friends and a shared shrine;
   to love aging well, like old port wine.
Cinquain: ABABB
louis rams May 2014
We said we would meet at heaven’s gate
It is not our time so we will have to wait.
We had made an earthly vow that we would
Meet at heavens pearly gates
No matter how much time it would take.
The sounds of heavenly trumpets will blare
And family and friends will all be there.
They will greet us as newlyweds and we
Will lie in a heavenly bed of petals from the red rose
And that sweet scent tickling our nose.
We will be in our own cottage with a white picket fence
And a golden walkway to the front door
Where we will share our lives forever more.
The birds will be chirping and the red Robbins will sing
Letting us know that we have everything.
In heaven, there is no such earthly things as wealth
Politics or discrimination, because we are all
A part of god’s nation. There is only one language
And it is the language of love, shared
By everyone who comes above.
Kate Joseph Jun 2015
He crosses the street
But never takes the corner of his eye
Off of you
As if you would actually let
Your foot off the brake

This Civil War
Our nation is now fighting
Is different
Than the last

The sign in the convenience store window
Warns of shoplifters being shot
And survivors.. They'll be shot once more

The store clerk follows you
Discreetly, so he thinks
Almost begging for you
To use  your five finger discount

This Civil War
Our nation is now fighting
Is different
Than the last

Money-hungry moguls
Only widening the gap
The vagabond with ripped pants
The newlyweds who work so much
To have so little

The capitalist kings
Poisoning the peasants
Anything for an extra buck
Anything

As the rich get richer....

This Civil War
Our nation is now fighting
Is different
Than the last

A real-life game
Of cops and robbers
Has gone way too far

Guilty
Not guilty
He said
She said

Armies forming
Head to head
Parting
Like the Red Sea

This Civil War
Our nation is now fighting
Is different
Than the last
(When will we finally realize
We are all on the same side?

Only then
Will this war be won)


01 June 2015
Marri Apr 2020
I want to be tongue tied with you,
Not the way you’d think.
Not stumbling over words we could only dream of how to pronounce,
Not stuttering over the phrase ‘I love you’,
Not spitting out each other’s names every time we reach a high.

I want to be in knots with you,
Tongues twisted into each other,
I want to drool with you.

I want every word to come out in mumbles,
I don’t want anyone to ever understand us.
(Then again, they never did.)

I want to feel disgusted with ourselves,
I want to taste your last meal,
And I don’t care what it was.

I want to inhale your exhale,
I want to tangle uvulas together.

Sick, isn’t it?
Revoltingly simple.

I want our teeth to clash,
I wouldn’t even complain if we chipped one.
(The government can pay for our fillings.)

I want to feel your every taste bud tasting mine.
I want to do a dna test with your spit,
Only to find out that we were past life lovers in each other’s bodies.

I want to scare everyone who dares to look our way,
We can mumble and groan like zombies.
We can grumble and moan like newlyweds.

I want to feel spit dripping down our chins,
I want to look stupid with you.

We can be all knotty,
Just slip yours into mine.

(Tongues, I mean.)
Megan Jones Jun 2019
We gathered to celebrate the newlyweds,
I only came here because I knew
He would be here
July 26th, 2008-

It had been fifteen years... since she was taken from us
The night had come swiftly, salt tainted mist - for your wounds
I was but a child when he took her and disappeared.
You robbed, stole, abused - Now, it is your time.

You didn't recognize me from across the room
My fingertips softly tapped my champagne glass
Glancing at reflections on the sharp edges
Explosions in gold, a world turned upside down
Melting around the corners, disappearing -

Our eyes met and you took my hand, to the terrace
As we stared out into the shadowed earth,
Only comforted by the sound of creatures and smell of dew
You looked up at the sky, a coat of silver jewels
Spread across dark, ad infinitum
You inhaled, exhaled - a plume of smoke
A world shifted, right side up
Again.

You began to speak of Federico Fellini
As if I were a conquest... to impress
Interrupting, you, "Say my name"
You stared blankly at my eyes - shifting from fire to ash
"Say my name, say it"
"Say my name."
Suddenly - your eyes widened, inhaling, the memory
Your mouth opened to speak - I pushed as hard as I could
You fell - and lay - beside the river below
Unchanged, an immovable object, an anchor, callous

Running down stairs, through trees, amidst the collapse
Reaching the point of exhaustion, I sat, I smoked
Surrounded by chairs dancing in the dark, like skeletons
Is this what you wanted?
Is this what You wanted?
Black Jewelz Jun 2016
The sun rises, like a spaceship launching,

Slowly, its manner is like tales from the ancient Crypt—haunting,

Yet bursting with joy, like newlyweds on a honeymoon.

It races

With determination

And power, like an Olympian, the horizon is the finish line it runs into.

The stars exit the heavenly theatre,

Applauding the night's enchanting dancing,

As one sun ray penetrates a window pane

To make a tear drop glisten

Like a glowing diamond bouncing inside of a glass prism

To bring beauty to a widow's pain,

Next door to a glass prison

Where the evil of humanity sits contained.

And when mankind passes by

And peeks inside

Their eyesight magnifies

To be reminded to control what they have inside.

A butterfly frolics above the daylight sparkling on the ocean,

Its wings paint the air in fluorescent colors with every motion.

Magnetic forces rise to battle,

A leaf gallops through the grass as the wind rides its saddle.

The Monopoly man at the podium proclaims our lives are full of duty,

I stand and reply, "Our lives are full of beauty...

You heard wrong..."

Behold, musical instruments gather to listen to the bird's song.

For the grand finale it catapults into the sky, five furlongs.

Spiraling, its tail emits a paint flow,

Leaving a trail of rainbows.

Majestic.

The phantom of the opera is king of the land.

His scarlet robe flows for miles,

Crowned with a ring on his hand.

At the beach shore, stardust is mixed in the sand.

The grieved lover weeps, mutters,

After he was shot to the chest,

But the bullet melted and dissolved into his flesh,

To protect his heart as it recovers.

The magician slips & falls,

Exposing his deceptive tricks & cards

And knocks down the psychic, shattering her crystal ball.

Bewildered, their eyes lock & meet;

Aghast.

Until an obscure man approaching hands them the Book of Prophecy.

At last.

Redemption.

The trees bow and toss ripe fruit at the feet of the peasants.

A rain cloud in the city is rebuked as unpleasant,

Then escapes to be adored by a man stranded in the desert.

The flower bud undresses.

An epiphany hits the fugitive then he confesses.

Love reigns, because lust is unworthy.

Society drinks an elixir consisting of justice & mercy.

As he beholds the splendrous sublimity of day morph into dusk

The skeptic realizes that the true source is above.

Dropping to his knees he cries, though his eyes fight,

His tears on the ground reflect the twilight.

As night falls,

A star smiles & gazes at the stargazing child's eyeballs.

They sparkle and glitter, immense.

The angels observe and shiver, in a sense,

Inspired all the more to guard her innocence.

Her giggles travel through the air,

Touching & comforting all who happen to hear.

The moon takes its place to conduct the night's dance,

The sea settles in a slight trance.

The winds chant saying, "look with your heart and you'll see

That planet Earth is an art gallery."

And one hopeful star throws a dream across the night sky

To remind us

That life should

Be protected,

Because life can be beautiful,

And that beauty is often unexpected.
These are lyrics from a recording I made. If any would like to hear:

soundcloud.com/black-jewelz/16-beautyfull
1SP Mar 2014
To think my welcome has worn out
In the only place I have called home:
The police told me that I must go about
From the one city in which I had grown.

Listen here, I was born here,
Raised not too far down the street;
Liberty City in my heart, so it’s no fear
Pumping blood of triumph, never defeat;
My eyes filled with hope and pride,
When I noticed heritage and wealth;
This city is home beyond any to reside
As I fight for liberty everywhere else.

To think my welcome has worn out
In the only place I have called home:
The police told me that I must go about
From the one city in which I had grown.

I was born a few years back at Northshore,
To two newlyweds struggling on a daily basis;
Both were striving in the city to provide more
For the children brought in a world so racist;
Now, the police always harassed me as a kid
But I am a veteran now and educated too
And I spend a vacation here then get arrested,
The police tried Jim Crow without rights to view.

To think my welcome has worn out
In the only place I have called home:
The police told me that I must go about
From the one city in which I had grown.

I don’t drink,
I don’t get high,
So I think
It had to be what I drive.

I don’t traffic,
I don’t solicit,
So very tragic,
Police abhor me for a visit.

Stupid how things never changed,
Even I did for my son and nation,
But the police always know my name,
No matter what goo I do I am a situation.

My welcome was gone,
The moment I arrived home.
Aaron Feb 2019
How to Be a Poet
(After Wendell Berry)

To be a poet is not just to write poetry. To be a poet is not to refuse to look at a computer screen. To be a poet is not to find some structured, patterned language in which to fit a thought.
To be a poet: accept. Qualia is a term that defines the unique experience of how our senses manifest. We may both agree that this text is black, but how can we know that I see the same shade of black as you do? To be a poet: accept that all perspectives have value.
To be a poet: listen. Listen to the unbalanced grating of the washer machine thrown slightly off its axis; listen to the blanket of sounds caressing your skin as you sit on the bus. Listen to the sounds and dreams of the world around you.
To be a poet: think. Think of the way the tap of fingers feel against your jeans; think of all those little projects you never quite managed to follow. Think of all those thoughts you were scared to acknowledge.
To be a poet: feel. Feel for the smiles and the averted eyes; feel for the lost souls and the newlyweds. Feel sunshine on your face, feel wind brushing against your jacket. Just feel.
To be a poet: dream. Dream and don’t stop. Dream about dreaming. Dream about running away. Dream about getting more sleep. Dream with such reverence that others start to dream again too.  
Some days you may not have a pen. Some days you may not have a computer. Some days may be bright and warm, others dark and cold. Being a poet is not about meeting certain conditions; being a poet is about finding meaning in what exists.
This was a school assignment~

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